Suspicion Of Guilt. Tracey V. Bateman
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sense of urgency nipped his insides, and he shifted in his overstuffed recliner. He conjured the image of the auburn-haired Denni. She didn’t deserve to have her dream snuffed out. He’d never known anyone quite like her before and he had to admit that at least fifty percent of his reason for wanting to solve the case was because he was tired of seeing the two lines of worry creasing her brow just above her perky little nose. A smile touched his lips. Obeying impulse, he reached for the phone and lifted the receiver. He dialed her number by heart.
One ring, two…He frowned at three, and growled at four, and was just about to hang up when a breathless voice filtered through the wires. “Hello?”
“Denni? What’s wrong?”
“Reece?”
“Yeah.” Just the sound of her voice raised his heart rate. “Everything okay?”
“No. Everything is just rotten!”
Her emphatic response took him aback. He raised his eyebrows. “Another incident?” This time he would definitely check the neighbor lady’s whereabouts.
“Not like that.” She didn’t even try to hide her irritation, and that irritated him. “Why are you so suspicious all the time?”
Okay, he hadn’t expected to get barked at. “Because I’m a cop. And because there’s an ongoing investigation surrounding you.”
“Well, this has nothing to do with your investigation. I just spoke to my caterer, who should have been here setting up about a half hour ago. Only, she insists the luncheon was cancelled. Which of course is ridiculous, because why on earth would I cancel the most important lunch of my life? Regardless, she has nothing she can prepare on a moment’s notice, so I have nothing to feed the ten people who could be deciding the future of Mahoney project.”
Her voice caught, halting her rant, and Reece stopped breathing as the hero in him rose to the surface.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t really have a choice. Cancel.” Defeat and tears mingled in her voice.
Reece kicked down the footrest on the recliner and grabbed for his brown leather sandals. “Get the dining room all set up. Don’t worry about the food. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Forty-five minutes? Reece, do you realize the luncheon is in exactly—oh, good grief—two hours and fifty-four minutes.”
“Have a little faith, woman. And trust me.”
Denni watched, fascinated and eternally grateful, as Reece slid another grilled chicken breast from the indoor grill. Dressed in a pair of baggy jean shorts and a T-shirt, sleeves rolled up and straining over bulging sun-bronzed biceps, he was way too distracting on a day when she needed all of her wits about her. On the other hand, if his distracting personage hadn’t shown up bearing three bags of groceries, she’d be sunk.
“Hey, you going to slice those peppers? I need to get them on the grill.”
Denni jumped at the sound of Reece’s slightly urgent tone. “Sorry,” she muttered and turned her attention back to the task she’d been assigned by the chef: slicing red bell peppers to add to the mix. She had to admit the guy had saved the day. Grilled chicken wraps on whole-wheat tortillas and a large Caesar salad made a perfect luncheon. It spoke of class, but didn’t look like she was trying too hard. And best of all, the entire meal would be ready in less than an hour, and she would still have time for a quick shower before the guests began arriving. The girls had pitched in and prepared iced tea, coffee and strawberry shortcakes for dessert.
The thought of their worry when she’d made the wretched announcement of the caterer’s incompetence sent affection surging through her. And she felt guilty for ever entertaining the notion that one of them might be out to close her down. She’d have to be careful from now on not to let herself be drawn into Reece’s world of suspicion.
“All done,” she announced, scooping up the sliced peppers and tossing them into a bowl. She walked across to the other counter where the grill sat. Intent on cubing the chicken, Reece looked up only briefly, as she set the bowl on the counter, but in that instant, he sent her a knee-weakening smile.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” Oh, be still my beating heart, she pleaded.
“Why don’t you go get yourself ready?” he suggested. “I can finish up here. By the time you come back, I’ll have everything cleaned up and you’ll be all set to wow the powers that be.”
Could this guy possibly be the same man who had breezed in and out of her life at irregular times over the past three months? He couldn’t. But she could definitely get used to this Reece Corrigan. A simple thank-you just didn’t seem appropriate at a time like this. Still, she had to say something. “Reece, I don’t know what I would have done without you today. I’ll find a way to repay you.”
He shrugged. “It was only around fifty dollars. Consider it my contribution to your life’s ambition.”
Fifty dollars! She’d forgotten about the grocery bill! “For crying out loud, why didn’t you say something? Let me get my purse.” She reached for her bag, which remained on the counter where she’d set it earlier when she’d frantically searched for the caterer’s card. That moment of panic seemed a million years ago, now that all was well.
Reece caught hold of her wrist. “Forget it. I wanted to do it.”
“But why?”
His gaze locked with hers, and the honesty in his eyes melted away the periphery until he was all she saw. “Let’s not analyze it,” he said softly.
Denni nodded, swallowing hard. Reece released her wrist and jerked his head toward the doorway. “Now go, make yourself presentable.” He turned back to the meal preparation, obviously finished with any discussion.
There was nothing for her to do but follow his instructions. At the door, she turned. “You will stay for lunch, won’t you?” It was the least she could do, she silently admonished herself. To allow him to save the day and then not even bother to invite him to join them would have been plain rude. And her mother hadn’t raised her to be ill-mannered.
“I’m not exactly dressed for a luncheon,” he said.
“I disagree. No one specified dressy.” By the dubious look on his face, she knew he wasn’t buying it. Everyone would be dressed in suits or other professional clothes. As a matter of fact, she’d intended to dress professionally herself, but if it would make him feel more comfortable…
“Dress appropriately, Denni,” he said as though reading her thoughts. “I don’t need to stay for lunch.”
She hesitated, wanting to insist, but afraid she’d sound needy and desperate. A single thirty-something woman clinging to the man who had come to her rescue. But she did want to prolong his presence. She couldn’t help it.
“I’ll call later to see how everything turns out.”
Denni’s eyes grew wide at his knowing smile. Had she said that thing about wanting to prolong his presence aloud? Well, she couldn’t have him thinking she wanted him to stick around because of some personal attachment or crush or something. So she did all she knew to do. Gave a shrug. “Whatever. Just don’t forget to take your grill home.”
He chuckled. “I won’t.”
She hurried up the stairs to the solace of the bathroom where she could soak away her humiliation and be alone with her confusing emotions, which seemed increasingly to be favoring Reece Corrigan.
Reece was just drying the last of the mixing bowls, knives and cutting boards and putting them into the cabinets when the doorbell rang. He looked around. The women of the house had adjourned upstairs, presumably to get ready for the luncheon. Personally, Reece thought it was risky on Denni’s part to include the pregnant Cate, the body-pierced,